Brace Yourself

I just hit the very last marker, at least of those outlined by my doctor, on the road to recovery from peroneal tendon repair surgery: the obsoleting of my ankle brace.

Ah, the ankle brace…annoying to get off and on, hard to fit into shoes, yet a reassurance and a necessity. Every time I’ve exercised over the last 14 months my brace has been there to restrict and support and now it’s no longer needed. Is that a call for celebration or a painful separation?

I wasn’t sure how my ankle would handle its brace graduation. After all, obnoxious as the brace was it did make me feel a little more stable and invincible. Would my ankle have separation anxiety after having such a constant companion for so long? Or worse yet, would this precarious advancement cause me substantial pain?

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The thrill of being brace-free immortalized

On my first run without the brace things felt amiss. Since I had not run brace-free for over a year the sliding motion of my ankle as I stepped felt unnatural and a bit disconcerting. It was like a screw holding my foot together had suddenly come loose; it didn’t hurt but it didn’t feel normal. Other than that the run was completely uneventful; my ankle handled the adjustment surprisingly well.

The day after that run a muscle in my bad leg was pretty achy from the top of my foot to mid-calf. My legs very rarely get sore thanks to years of being active (I wish I could say the same about the rest of my parts.) so I concluded that this muscle must be involved in controlling some of the movements my brace inhibited. Hence, it protested a little when it was returned to full duty.

Although my codependent ankle freed itself of the brace with minimal anguish it really didn’t gain full autonomy; it jumped right back into cahoots with another apparatus, one of its Xs. I wore a custom-made orthotic sole for a couple months before surgery in a futile attempt to appease my ankle without an operation, now that orthotic is back in my shoe and back in service. (Righty has been wearing its own orthotic since pre-surgery but the brace for lefty barely fit in my tennis shoe; there’s no way I could have squeezed in the brace and the orthotic at the same time.) According to my doctor, since I am at risk for further tendon damage I will have to wear that baby when I exercise indefinitely. My ankle acclimated to using it again pretty well; the arch in my foot hurt for a few runs but it was manageable.

I must admit that removing the brace from my routines went smoother than I had anticipated. There was no wailing or gnashing of teeth. My ankle didn’t cry, protests, or fall apart. A few strange sensations and a little discomfort were all that stood between me and a brace-free existence. Good job little ankle buddy! May all of you fellow ankle de-bracers fare as well!

A Hopping New Year

Party hopping: reserved for just the socially elite and the chronically noncommittal?

No, apparently it also for the super awesomest party people on the planet…yes, I’m talking about us…duh.

Although we typically get invited to a couple New Years Parties every year, this year we outdid ourselves in the invitee department. Our presence was requested at no less than 5 events. Yeah, you wish you were that cool. While we are not fantastic enough to somehow pull off going to five parties in one night, we decided to try attending three.

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Here's Cody the seal. Kenny kindly offered to slide with him; there's nothing sweeter than volunteer idiocy.

We started our evening at the Rowley’s with some Killer Oompi. Killer Oompi is a game that has long been a tradition among Jason’s friends. It’s basically speed Uno with penalties. The loser of each round has to do something completely idiotic like go through a spanking tunnel or eating a carrot out of the winner’s nose. Visions of Cody sliding through the snow on his stomach while acting like a seal were fresh in our memories and still warming our hearts as we departed the Rowley’s for our next gathering. Good times.

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Here's Jason with his harem of women at the Hughes' party. After all, what's more Italian than cavorting with a bunch of females?

We then stopped in at Cam and Fran’s. They adopt a different country theme for their party each year and this year the motif was Italy. Yes! Tiramisu: food of the gods…or of some fat Italians at the very least.

This is the Nothing Bundt Cake we took to my sister's house. It was nothing bund
This is the Nothing Bundt Cake we took to my sister's house. It was nothing bundt delicious!

We finished off the evening by counting down to 2010 with my sister and her kids. The youngsters were a little loopy from staying up past their bedtimes but they were very excited about ushering in the new year and getting to drink sparkling cider from fancy cups.

Instead of pumpkins
Instead of turning into pumpkins this is what happens to the Marshalls after midnight.

We returned home at 4 in the morning after our night of social scattering. Man, being awesome is exhausting!

Happy New Years to us!
Happy New Years to us!

Many thanks to all of you who hosted, entertained, and fed us; you were the wind beneath our wings.

A White Christmas

When one thinks of Christmas one usually envisions minty candy canes, twinkling lights, lively carols, jolly men…and monstrously huge granny panties? No? Well, you must not have had your share of Sabin Christmas fun then.

All of our friends with their white elephant loot
All of our friends with their white elephant loot at this year's party

Every year we host a small Christmas get-together. The particulars of this festivity have changed through the years; what used to be a fancy candlelight dinner has turned into a relaxed informal gathering of friends. But through all the shifting party schemes one party favorite has remained: the white elephant gift exchange.

Brett in his prize panties
Brett in his prize panties

What a white elephant has to do with gifts that typically range from tacky to bizarre is beyond me but this classic Christmas game certainly unearths some timeless treasures. Power Klingon on cassette tape, golden pheasant sculptures, lice spray, headless nutcrackers, archaic computer manuals, brass knuckles…the list goes on and on. This year Brett was even fortunate enough to procure a very large pair of granny panties. Lucky!

This awesome gingerbread house was made by some of my coworkers and displayed at our party.
This awesome gingerbread house was made by some of my coworkers and displayed at our Christmas party.

In our version of the white elephant exchange all the gifts remain wrapped until the end. We find this method more amusing since oftentimes the gifts that are fought over most turn out to be quite absurd, like a pair of used socks from a guy with stinky feet or a half eaten box of cereal. Just what you’ve always wanted!

Jacob decided he needed to try on Brett
Jacob decided he needed to try on Brett's panties and various other unmentionables that were exchanged via the white elephant game. Is that a look of horror or ecstasy on Sara's face?

A pretty bow may disguise a loathsome gift: that’s the lesson one quickly learns from attending a Sabin Christmas party and I think it’s also the title of a James Bond theme song.

Merry Christmas everyone! May your brass knuckles be shiny and bright and your headless nutcracker a delight!